


Confess // Joshler oneshot

by imagoner



Category: Twenty One Pilots
Genre: Cute, M/M, joshler - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-01
Updated: 2016-08-01
Packaged: 2018-07-28 13:03:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7641400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imagoner/pseuds/imagoner
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tyler knows it's time to tell Josh the truth</p>
            </blockquote>





	Confess // Joshler oneshot

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, so if you've read my last few oneshots than thank you!! I hope you like this one. xx
> 
> (Tylers pov)

"Do you actually love me?"

He pauses, the room stills

I'm staring into his eyes, and... this is it. I'm sick of waiting, of lying.

What was I supposed to say? No?  
How is anybody ever supposed to do that? I'm tired of pushing it away and I'm tired of it always being like this. So fine, I'll tell him. He asked, and now he'll know.

But let's backtrack a little, to the night. Yeah, **_the_** night. The night where my head began to swirl with these thoughts, or more so, spiral uncontrollably.

As cliche as it is, we were at a party, and were probably the most drunk we'd ever been around each other. We didn't know that many people, and so we clung to one another's side.

We didn't kiss, or fuck... we didn't even hold hands. But it was that night where all of a sudden, I felt nervous in his presence. My skin heated up upon his touch and my stomach fluttered (or swarmed) with butterflies.

I told myself it was the alcohol, and it probably was. They do say that alcohol makes you feel the things you always try to hide, makes you say the things you held on your tongue.

He was wearing ripped jeans, and a plain grey shirt. He looked better than usual, the memory is still unclear and fuzzy, but I remember thinking that. _He looked good._

We were very touchy that night, flirty, laughing at all of our jokes and just having a good time. I don't know if he felt it too. I don't know if he even remembers half of the night, but god if I could erase the beginning of these feelings. Wipe them from my mind, from that night.

I would.

I recall sitting on a couch in the corner of the busy room, it was a house party. We sat right up against each other despite the couch room that could've fit another 3 people. I rested my hand on his exposed knee, tacing small circles with my thumb.

It wasn't really that weird, he wasn't bothered by it since we are such close friends. It's the intention I had behind it that frustrates me.

I know that had he let me, I would've kissed him. And that bothers me more than anything. Knowing that in that state, I would've just done it. Put everything in the air and open to question. Put a solid friendship on the line.

Too many jello shots, I say.

So yeah, that's **_the_** night. Nothing all that exciting happened, but it was the start.

Six months later and the feelings arose like bopping waves. It was fucking agonising, but damn, I hid it so well. I tried my hardest not to let anything slip, not once.

And then I poured it all out into lyrics. Usually late at night when the darkness covered the streets, when I knew he was sleeping.

But I knew it wasn't going to take long before it all surfaced. Before the strings of the mask I had on were cut.

And here he was, standing in front of me. He found the songs, the lyrics. Each and every word dedicated to him.  
Dedicated to his laugh. His smile. His dark squinty eyes. His bright hair. His hands. His lips.

Dedicated to him, in every piece of the word.

He knew, and now that it was being all placed out in front of me, I felt relief more than anything.

We hold eye contact, sheets of papers in his hand and his arms out as if he was asking for a hug.  
Except he wasn't.  
Oh no, he had his lips pursed and his eyebrows in a frown. Standing in an intimidating fashion and staring at me expectantly. Waiting.

 I take in his beauty, even though his face is clearly unhappy. It wasn't the right time but, I couldn't help it.

The question echoes in my mind, the whole situation felt so direct and I was outspoken.

But an overwhelming emotion of pure honesty overcame me, and I knew I had to tell him now. It was time to tell him.

Time to confess.

 

"Do you actually love me?"

 

"Yes"

**Author's Note:**

> ((Be sure to comment if you want, I love hearing you guys' opinions))


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